


between love and hate.

by katarama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Aromantic, Aromantic Stiles Stilinski, Crushes, F/M, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Scott’s credit, the bar is very busy, and the two of them have been stuck sitting close to the bar.  They’ve been jostled all night, and they’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring it.  Also to Scott’s credit, in Stiles’ opinion, he is pretty drunk.  Drunk enough that Scott is easily seated on Stiles’ lap, both of them teetering a little bit unsteadily on the seat.  Drunk enough that when a familiar bearded face with glasses nudges Scott as he passes by, Scott doesn’t notice.  In fact, Scott doesn’t notice at all until Stiles whispers loudly into Scott’s ear, “Don’t look left,” which, in hindsight was probably less of a mistake than it felt like at the time.</p><p>Scott, of course, looks left, and the pained, “Oh no, Derek’s arms,” is a little bit louder than he probably intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	between love and hate.

“Do you think he actually believes anything he says?” Scott asks.  It’s a genuine question.  His eyebrows are furrowed the way they always get when he’s very seriously Fretting About Things.  It’s sometimes hard for other people to tell, because Scott always tries to be so steady and solid, but Stiles could recognize it in the lines on Scott’s forehead in his sleep.

Stiles is just drunk enough that he doesn’t think before he reaches out his hand to smooth the creases, nearly poking Scott in the eye when Scott tries to duck his head out of the way.  “Stiles, this is serious,” Scott says morosely.

“Everything is serious,” Stiles says, giving up and gently patting Scott’s face.  “We are at a bar.  It’s Friday night.  No more philosophy class crying.”

Scott sighs and takes a sip of his drink.  Stiles resolves to buy him another.  Scott really needs to be on Stiles’ level.  Everyone should be on Stiles’ level right now, but especially Scott.  Stiles knows it’s been a long day, and that everyone has those days when they get drunk and moan about their crushes, so he really isn’t _surprised_.  He does wish Scott wouldn’t treat it as something so hopeless, though.  Scott only ever gets hopeless when it comes to things that could make him happy, and Scott hasn’t been able to stop talking about this dude since the semester started.

Stiles honestly thought it was a pointless idea to take a philosophy class, in the first place.  He doesn’t understand the appeal of it.  It seems like signing up to hear a bunch of fuckwads wank off to Nietzsche and act like the rest of them just don’t get it.  Scott thought it’d be interesting, and that maybe he might gain some perspective or fine tune his ideas, with them being challenged by the professor and his classmates.  Stiles honestly couldn’t care less.  He doesn’t even care to think that intensely about right and wrong; Scott does that enough for the both of them, and Stiles is generally content to push back a little but treat Scott’s perspective as generally the functionally good option.  

Scott was actually genuinely excited about the course, though.  He ordered and started to read the required books as soon as the professor listed them online.  He was interested and engaged and pumped from day one, and Stiles thought nothing was going to put a damper on this class for Scott.

Until, of course, Scott met one Derek Hale.

“He thinks it’s just fine to like… kill people,” Scott says.  He finishes his drink and starts in on another.  Stiles pats him on the face again.  “But he wears _sweaters_.  And _glasses_.  His face is so fuzzy and he smiles so much, but he _thinks it’s okay to kill people_.”

“You don’t think it’s always wrong to kill people,” Stiles reminds him, because he thinks it bears noting that Scott and Derek don’t actually disagree on everything.  Sure, Derek tends to be a little more on the side of pushing the envelope than Scott, but he isn’t the worst, and Derek and Scott sometimes actually talk about their ideas the exact same way, based on the same exact principles.

“I don’t think it’s the _best_  option,” Scott says.

Neither does Derek.  Stiles doesn’t feel like arguing, though.  Stiles is riding out a comfortable buzz, and talking about philosophy in a bar honestly sounds like the most pretentious and boring way to spend his Friday night.  “I still think you two fucking is the best option,” he informs Scott seriously, even though Scott never takes him seriously when he says it.  “And also me.  All three of us fucking.  Because if you think for even, like, one single minute that I don’t know you want that stubble all over your ass, you’re wrong, dude.”

“But-”

“You don’t need to agree with someone to fuck them,” Stiles reminds him, “or we never would’ve started dating in the first place.”

“You’re Stiles, though,” Scott says.  

Stiles will never get over the way Scott says it, like Stiles being Stiles imparts some great and wondrous meaning.  It doesn’t.  Stiles knows he’s an asshole.  Hell, Scott knows he’s an asshole.  But Scott will never not see the best in him, because he’s Scott.  Scott has the ability to see the best in anyone, and Stiles knows in his gut that Scott could probably find the best in Derek pretty easily, if he wanted to.  Scott isn’t wrong about the fuzzy sweaters and the glasses and the soft facial hair.  When he’s not talking and when he’s not glaring across the room, Derek honestly looks like he holds kittens and babies for fun.  Stiles is pretty sure that the whole ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ rule doesn’t apply when there are fuzzy sweaters involved.

So Stiles thinks it’s a little silly that Scott is so hung up, and Stiles is pretty sure he actually knows what it means.  It means that Scott has the potential to have feelings, in a way that Stiles has only ever really understood within the context of his relationships with Malia and Scott.  Stiles is fine with that.  Scott can date Derek all he wants.  All Stiles really wants is to get in on the boning part of things.

“But…” Stiles leads.

“But nothing,” Scott says, confused.

“But butt.  And arms, right?”

The resigned sigh that Scott gives is so obvious it’s almost comical.  

“Butt and arms,” he agrees.

* * *

 

To Scott’s credit, the bar is very busy, and the two of them have been stuck sitting close to the bar.  They’ve been jostled all night, and they’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring it.  Also to Scott’s credit, in Stiles’ opinion, he is pretty drunk.  Drunk enough that Scott is easily seated on Stiles’ lap, both of them teetering a little bit unsteadily on the seat.  Drunk enough that when a familiar bearded face with glasses nudges Scott as he passes by, Scott doesn’t notice.  In fact, Scott doesn’t notice at all until Stiles whispers loudly into Scott’s ear, “Don’t look left,” which, in hindsight was probably less of a mistake than it felt like at the time.

Scott, of course, looks left, and the pained, “Oh no, Derek’s arms,” is a little bit louder than he probably intended.

Derek stops in his tracks, the crowd around the bar moving around him.  Even in the dim lighting, Stiles can see Derek’s ears pinking up at the tips.  Stiles doesn’t really disagree with Scott; Derek’s wearing a tight t-shirt and even tighter jeans, a leather jacket cradled in his arm making all of his muscles look huge.  Derek Hale is probably the most ripped college junior that Stiles has seen in his entire life.  Stiles doesn’t know if that is the usual muscle profile for a basketball player or not, but if it is, clearly Stiles has been overlooking an important sport.

“We should go to your basketball games,” Stiles informs Derek.  “And Scott should buy you a drink.”

“Would you like a drink?” Scott asks hopefully, and Derek just stares at the two of them.  Stiles’ arm is wrapped around Scott’s waist, and Scott is sitting in Stiles’ lap, and Stiles had forgotten about that until this minute, but that probably looks weird to Derek.  This whole situation probably looks a little weird to Derek.  But Stiles is drunk, and, therefore, immune to embarrassment.

“This is when you say yes,” he whispers loudly to Derek, and Scott swats at him.

“Don’t pressure him,” Scott chastises him.  “If he doesn’t want to drink he doesn’t have to.”

“I’d like a drink,” Derek finally says tentatively.  “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Scott says.  Stiles has to let go of Scott to let him get up, and it leaves Stiles’ lap sad and cold.  That makes Stiles sad.  He wants Scott in his lap all of the time.  But he watches Derek put his arm around Scott to steady him as Scott stands up, and Stiles gets a complicated kind of feeling in his gut.  Stiles definitely has _feelings_  for Scott, the kind of feelings that are concrete and romantic and kind of the exception to the rule for Stiles.  But Stiles still isn’t always so good at showing it, and anyone who takes care of Scott in the mushy kind of ways that Stiles isn’t always so good at both makes Stiles happy and a little bit jealous.  Kitten Sweater Hale looks like he’d be good at that.  Kitten Sweater Hale looks like he could probably fuck Scott into the mattress and do mushy stuff at the same time.

From there, the night improves.  Derek is actually much easier to talk to than Stiles expected.  The fact that they’re all either drunk or heading there quickly probably helps, because it parachutes them straight past the awkwardness and into Scott asking, with big, hopeful eyes, biting his lip with his teeth, “You don’t hate me, do you?”

“No!” Derek says.  “I thought… I thought the class discussions were fun.  We were interacting.”

“You’re just really, really hot,” Scott says forlornly.  “I don’t agree with you, but you’re really hot.”

“I think you’re hot, too, you know,” Derek says, and Stiles feels like things are finally going in the right direction.  “And I don’t always disagree with you.  I play devil’s advocate sometimes.  No one else in our class cares enough to, and it’s fun debating with you.”

Stiles ducks out to the bathroom to give the two of them some time to coo at each other.  He texts Malia that they’re almost ready to come home, because she borrowed the Jeep for the night, and Stiles thinks Scott might’ve spent the money that was intended to go towards cab fare on drinks for Derek.  If it means that Scott got to talk about feelings, Stiles doesn’t mind, but Stiles isn’t spending the night stranded at the bar, and Scott and Derek are too drunk to bang.

Malia promises she’ll be there before too long, and Stiles sends her a crooked, poorly-lit snapchat kiss.  She calls him a dork, and he gets the warm tinglies in his gut.

“I love SCOTT an you,” he texts her, autocorrect fixing up his message as he goes.  “derek’s just real hot through.”

It feels important to tell her, even though she doesn’t have all the context with Derek in particular.  Malia’s the least jealous person Stiles has ever met, and he knows she wouldn’t have a problem if Stiles did have feelings for Derek.  But it feels like a relief to type it out and send it, to have someone know for certain and tell him that’s okay.  That not having romantic feelings for someone Scott likes, someone that Stiles feels like, objectively, he should be able to feel the butterflies and wistfulness for, doesn’t make him weird.

“Hot enough for a foursome?” Malia asks.

Stiles laughs, texts her “probably” and closes out his phone.  He walks back to the bar and kisses Scott’s cheek, watching Derek’s expression less subtly than he intends to.  

Derek just smiles at them.  It’s a good sign, Stiles thinks.  Later on the mess of them will probably have to have a Talk, and Scott will fret about having a boyfriend just for himself and about stuff like jealousy and communication.  Scott likes everything spelled out explicitly, which Stiles thinks is probably a better approach to Stiles’ ‘ignore a problem and hope it goes away’ method.  

Maybe it’s just Stiles’ drunken optimism.  Tomorrow, Stiles will probably be stealing Scott’s phone to give Derek shit, and he will tease Scott relentlessly.  But in the moment, with Derek’s eyes warm and half-lidded and his handsome boyfriend smiling up at him, Stiles thinks that maybe this is a good start.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com).


End file.
